Buffy wearily waved goodbye and adieu to the last of her
coworkers and decided that she was going to be a little bit less conscientious
next time. Sure, she got the nifty badge that said ‘Assistant Manager,’
but she also got stuck doing the closing, because she was so damned good
at it.

After the hectic days, the silence of the restaurant
was peaceful….for a few minutes. Then she noticed how loud the fridge was
when she banged the door shut. Then she noticed the sounds and smells coming
in through the drive through window. Then she noticed resentful thoughts
she had been too busy and too tired to feel before hand. Such as, why am
I stuck working my behind off? And then she would go out and slay….till
she was so tired she would collapse into bed and not think.

Not thinking was definitely good. Not remembering was
even better. She found tops to containers, labeled and dated them, carried
them to the fridge and slammed the door shut. The sound seemed to reverberate
in the little restaurant. She grabbed the green scrubbies and went to work
on the baked-on gunk in the microwave, which looked so much like demon
innards that she paused and sniffed at the sponge thoughtfully. Nope, not
demon innards. American cheese. Big diff.

She was going to be so tired tonight. She knew she
was going to tumble into bed, and then there would be no thoughts…..She
kept coming back to the notion of….it. Him. That. During it, of course,
there’d been no thought, except for a conscious effort to breathe. But
then….how could she not be embarrassed?

Uh. Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts brought back to mind the
certainty she’d had all day the day after, that while he….he….had turned
out to be way more than she expected, she herself had somehow turned out
to be less. She wondered if she would ever be able to think about..it…without
cringing. “Very mature, Buffy”.

She hauled another armload of containers to the fridge
and then gave the door and satisfying bang. It was so humid in the kitchen
area, where there were no windows at all, despite the fact that it was
the area most likely to need them in the whole restaurant. She sighed,
turned, around, and then went to the drive through. Just for a minute.
She needed the air. She was distinctly aware of how flushed her face felt,
but it wasn’t the exertion that did it. She pushed open the window, and
leaned out, smelling the jasmine on the rain-heavy air. Breathing. Very
good.

Oh, it would be so good if she never saw him again, because
when she had, she saw it all again…..Who would have known what he was like?
How could she have known? With Riley, well, it was very much like Riley
during normal circumstances, except there was more sweat involved. Sometimes
there was jaw clenching. Then there were the sheets. Always sheets in the
way, getting entangled in them, keeping her from….

She gulped down the soda because her throat was abruptly
dry.

With Spike…She wasn’t even aware she was holding her breath.
With Spike….who knew how soft his face was capable of getting? How could
she have possibly known how long his eyelashes were till she saw them suddenly
as his eyes squeezed shut beneath her, gasping, as he shuddered under her,
in her, his hands clenching on her hips? There had been no sheets in the
way with Spike; not even clothes after the first time, not after they’d
torn frantically at each other’s buttons and snaps, kissing, gasping, separating
for necessary seconds, then desperately positioning and ……And she wouldn’t
forget that.

He was beautiful, the look on his face as she slid down
on him slowly, his hands tightening on her hips convulsively. But she was
sure there was nothing alluring about the way she had looked….She remembered
the sensation too well, now, staring off into the twilight, feeling again
the twinges of arousal that made her body move without her permission in
ways she hadn’t known it was capable of. It wasn’t supposed to be like
that; she was certain of it. How could she believe it was like that, that
people could do that, then get up, get dressed, and go out into the world
and leave behind the memory of what they’d done in the darkness?

They’d slept intermittently through the night, and then
she’d awakened with a gasp, from a dream she couldn’t remember…a dream
of aching pleasure, to find his hands on her breasts, her body twisting
and turning, and Spike, between her legs in the darkness, as invisible
as if he’d been in a mirror, but, oh, she could hear what he was doing,
as surely as she could feel it….Though at first, she didn’t believe what
he was doing….And then she was too far gone. It was one thing for her to
see him as he shuddered with pleasure so intense it almost hurt, to see
his face more naked than his body, but for him to see her, to taste her,
to touch her….that was not fair. And he hadn’t stopped, till she was so
weak she almost cried, as certainly as if he’d drained her blood. What
was it he had drained from her instead?

The noise behind her made her whirl around and she dropped
the soda in a plume of foam on the floor. For a second, they stared at
each other, she white-faced except for two hectic spots of red on each
cheek, he, somewhat abashed, scratching nervously at his jaw with his thumb.

“Y—Y—Y—You’re not supposed to be in here.”

He shrugged, glancing around, carefully, his posture stiff
and careful.

“I—I—have a job to do, you know, I can’t do it with
you hanging over me…”

Oh. Bad. Oh, so very bad. She could just see him again,
just at the moment he was about to….She gawped at him, her flush turning
deeper and deeper.

“I have stuff to do, you can’t lurk around like this….”

She brushed by him, too close, and smelled him so intensely
that she shivered with it. He wasn’t happy about getting brushed off, either…He
frowned at her, and she shuddered away from him, not in fear….of him, that
is, but of herself…one little slip…

Then she was at the preparation table, and there were
things to do, and she prattled away at him, in the desperate hope she might
possibly scare him away with the power of inane chatter…..

”You know, I need this job, I can’t have people visiting
me, and you were already here this afternoon, what, do you like making
me feel bad?”

Oh, she flinched at that, knowing perfectly well that
that was not the case at all…

”I can’t afford to lose this job, I have Dawn to think
about, I have the house payment….” I have the smell of your cigarettes
around me, the smell of the leather we laid on, rolled on, what are you
thinking….”

She folded and packaged and arranged, babbling, while
he lounged beside her against the edge of the table, his side to her, where
if she just glanced out of the corner of her eye she’d see his lean figure,
wonder if the scratches she’d left on his chest when she’d….

She stopped abruptly. It was absolutely silent in the
restaurant. Even the clock ticked too quietly. She could almost hear her
legs trembling.

If she turned, she would see him, see that concerned look
on his face…. If she turned….

He saved her from the effort. He leaned in and kissed
her, and the silence was broken by the sibilance of kisses, the creak of
leather. She wasn’t even aware of turning, her arms sliding up his arms
to his neck, just as long as his mouth was on hers, just as long as she
could taste his tongue…

In a fraction of a second, she was pressed between him
and the table, and he was harder than the table. She’d never known kisses
like this, except perhaps with Angel, so eloquent and so urgent at the
same time, accompanied by those little noises she’d never noticed before.

His arms went all the way around her, but they didn’t
stay in one place, as if she were territory he had to experience before
he could be satisfied.

He broke off for air, her chin in one hand, looking into
her eyes. Oh, God, why did he have to do that, he looked at her as if he
couldn’t fathom what his eyes were seeing, like she was some treasure.
He caught her frown, too, and folded his palm against her cheek, as if
she were some fractious child.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He whispered back. “Like I love you?”

Still, she thought. Still he did. It was her turn to look
back, to search for ambiguity that wasn’t there. She couldn’t have said
what she felt then, even if she knew what it was, and she didn’t even know
that much.

Instead she kissed him again, and hoped it said what she
couldn’t. They backed into the kitchen area, banging up against the wall,
which was good because her legs were shaking, and which was bad as well,
because walls were precisely how they’d gotten into this mess in the first
place.

There were two layers of clothes too many between them,
and their hands skidded over leather and cotton with clutching, greedy
fingers. He found her breast with one hand and in one smooth echoing movement
surged against her so urgently that she arched one leg around his legs
without even being aware of it.

His hand dropped from her breast to the waistband of her
skirt, and he pulled back from the kiss, watching her as his hand slid
past her belly button, till they both gasped.

Her hands clenched around his neck, in his hair, and in
her extremity, she couldn’t even look away from his eyes. He pressed his
forehead to hers and thrust his mouth against hers, even as their pelvises
ground together and his fingers plunged into her soaking depths.

He pulled back and she realized he was holding his breath
as she was. She was alert to only two things; his face and what he was
doing to her. And his face had that soft look that she had seen only before
when he had been about to explode, so why now…why…It was if her pleasure
gave him as much pleasure as his own.

She couldn’t stand it any longer. She first arched against
him, then sagged against his shoulder as it hit her, her muscles shuddering
to a stop, and then spasming with the release, aftershock hitting her again
and again. Then there was forever, till she was aware she was breathing
again, and she was standing, and her inner muscles were quivering with
weakness and eagerness.

Then she realized he was more or less holding her up like
she was a child. He gave her a very tentative, almost sleepy smile, and
she pulled him to her mouth to kiss him languorously, luxuriously, long
slow wet kisses that ended abruptly as they pressed closer together.

She slid her hands over his chest, and with a boldness
she’d never felt before, slid her hands to his crotch and caressed the
straining bulge there almost abashedly. Her reward was the way he gasped
back from her mouth, and opened and closed his mouth with a shudder. His
eyes were huge, and his entire body shook against her.

“I did that to him”, she thought.

”Oh, I know what else I want to do”, she thought, and
then they were stumbling against the back door into the alley.

They broke apart long enough to prop the door apart and
then Spike was backing her against the old metal fire escape, till she
sat on one of the steps suddenly.

Once her shaking legs no longer had to bear her weight,
she suddenly found all kinds of strength in her hands, pulling his shirt
out of his pants so she could caress his chest, finding his nipples with
her mouth, while he fumbled with his belt and her breast alternatively.
With shaking hands, he ripped open her blouse and seized one of her nipples
between his teeth, and Buffy made a gasping choking sound she’d never made
before.

She found his fly with her hands and ripped it open, shoving
his jeans down just far enough to free his erection. At the touch of her
hands, Spike jerked convulsively and his cock bobbed against her soaking
folds. He grabbed her face between both hands and kissed her so savagely
she moaned, while he thrust against her. He broke free for one second,
breathing as if he’d just run a marathon, and then pushed her panties aside
with one hand.

Then he pressed his erection against her and found her
entrance with a long explosive sigh. She grabbed his hips to pull him closer,
her eyes locked with his, biting her lip to keep from making any more noise,
which resolve lasted precisely as long as it took him to begin thrusting,
faster and faster. Oh, she knew the things men and women did together,
but she never knew it could be like this, that she could be doing this,
anywhere, and not care, as long as he was buried inside her and his eyes
were on her, as long as his face looked as if he was in pain, and she was
the only thing who could bring him surcease….It had never been like this,
a fever that fed itself, a hunger that perpetuated its existence.

He was the one inside her but she felt she was inside
him, and it still wasn’t enough; she wanted to crawl inside him. She wrapped
her legs around him to bring him closer and it still wasn’t close enough,
not while there were clothes between them, not while he was separated from
her by so much as his skin.

She could feel her muscles tightening, knew she was getting
close, and looked up at him, gasping.

“Look at me, look at me….” She whispered.

She could hear only the creak of the step she was on,
the noises they made, the noises their bodies made, and it was too much
for her to hang on any longer. The crescendo broke over her and she arched
beneath him as if shocked by an electric current, shuddering as each wave
broke over her. Her climax sent him over the edge, and she held his face
in her hands as his eyes squeezed shut almost in pain and he jerked against
her. Everything had been fast and furious before this; now everything was
exquisitely slow. They kissed as if tasting each other for the first time,
lazily, almost sleepily, feeling the twinges of soreness.

“Oh, this is crazy”, she thought. “This is crazy, crazy”.

He slipped out of her, and pulled his pants back up, managing
this despite never once stopping the kissing. He helped her adjust her
clothes, which she was amazed to discover included her panties.

It wasn’t until she put her feet on the ground that she
realized she was till shaking, which wasn’t helped by the fact that Spike
was still ‘helping’, kissing her with sighs mixed in, so that it was impossible
to do more than tug at her shirt before the kissing took over, and clothes
be damned.

Somehow they got all adjusted and covered despite never
once separating at the mouth, which is probably what caused them to reach
the wall and stay there.

At long last, it was possible, even necessary to pull
apart and breathe. She buried her face in his chest and rubbed her nose
against his shirt, which made him laugh, and which in turn made her giggle
because she could feel it.

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